The Freedom Beyond Indecision

If I could go back to that time and do one thing differently, I think I would have run. Out the door, down the hallway, kicking my little legs as fast as they could carry me. I wish I could have felt the wind whipping my cheeks as I took off at an unheardof speed, discovering the freedom that lives beyond indecision. I wouldn't care what I looked like, whether I was wearing socks or shoes, whether I was flailing my arms like a wild maniac, whether my warm tears were dissipating into the air behind me. To be completely unshackled from that past that still holds me captive even today, I would make myself a fool.

Maybe running wouldn't have changed much. Maybe I wouldn't have escaped the outcome and I would still have mind-bruising nightmares. Perhaps the dark talons would have found me wherever I went and embraced me coldly, pulling me inward even somewhere far away from the tragedies inflicted on my developing mind. I would probably still cower at eye contact with strangers. I would probably have still collapsed in a heap of tears and hyperventilation in the middle of the street, and experienced isolation from my peers as they failed to understand my messy thoughts and outbursts. This body wrapped up in darkness would still lie under my skin.

Maybe running wouldn't have changed much... but I know one thing it would have changed. It would have changed me. The way I see myself, the way I blame myself, the way I hurt myself, the way I hate myself. It would have changed me.

To be free from the pain of indecision, I would have made myself a fool.